


Out of their Dreams

by supercantaloupe



Series: A Brand New State [2]
Category: Oklahoma! - Rodgers/Hammerstein
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Family, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 20:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20346406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercantaloupe/pseuds/supercantaloupe
Summary: Laurey and Curly are finally settling into their married lives together as the winter settles in around them. When the wind howls at the window and the cold dark creeps in at the corners, it's as good a time as any to light the stove and have a conversation.





	Out of their Dreams

There were some evenings where Laurey couldn’t believe she’d ever been alone before now. The first half a year or so of marriage had its ups and downs for her, their honeymoon having been robbed of its sweetness before they’d even embarked, but now she felt herself finally settling into wedded life. She could hardly believe there was once a time, only a few short months ago, when she couldn’t stand the thought of even being  _ associated _ with the Mclain boy in public, and, well, now she walked around with his name as her own. She could hardly imagine crawling into bed again at the end of the day without him soon to join. 

Days were short this time of year. The ground was frozen solid and unworkable even if you managed to find it beneath the thick blankets of snow. The wind whipped and bit at the windows, the seams of houses, taunting their inhabitants to check their coal stores. There was far less work to be done around the yard in the dead of winter, save for tending to the animals penned up in the barn. Much as she loved her husband, Laurey made Curly do those jobs. She had her own things to work on in the house, and anyway why would she leave the warm comfort of the stove to wade through the cold wet snowbanks when she had a husband now to do it for her?

The sun seemed to set so early that winter was the only time Laurey didn’t go to bed right around dusk. It was hard enough to tell when dusk even properly  _ was _ , with the perpetual gray haze of clouds and not-infrequent snowfalls. The world seemed darker and quieter, still. Even with the stove well-fed with logs, the cold crept into her bedroom, into the sheets. This was when it was nice to have a husband. There was nothing sorrier than crawling into a stone-cold empty bed at the end of the day once you’ve known how sweet and warm it could be with someone to join you, to wrap their arms around you and hold you close under the quilt.

Laurey stood as close as she could to the stove as she prepared for bed. One by one she shed each layer of clothing and set it on the bed, hurrying slightly as she went along to spend as little time undressed in the cold as she could. Off with the apron, the sweater, the skirt, the outer shirt, the undershirt, the bloomers, the underthings. Before the chill in the air could sink all the way to her bones, she redressed with fresh undergarments, a soft nightgown, a pair of woolen socks. She pulled out the chair and sat down at the vanity, striking a match and lighting another candle for light. She then began her washing up, dipping a washcloth in a dish of water and dabbing the day’s oil and grime from her face. Gazing in the mirror, she looked over herself thoughtfully for a minute, then began to comb through her hair with her fingers, braiding it back with care and deliberation. 

There were thumping footsteps from downstairs, on the stairs, the hallway. “You’d better’ve left yer boots out on th’ porch when you come in ‘cause if I find you tracked mud ‘n’ sleet all over my floors yer sleepin’ on the couch,” Laurey said to her husband as he walked in the bedroom, not looking away from the mirror at all. He glanced at her and smiled his lopsided smile, walking up behind her to drape himself over her shoulders and perch his chin on her head.

“Mm, I did, I did,” he assured her, looking into her eyes through the mirror. Laurey pursed her lips and reached her hands up to hold his stubbly cheeks and jaw, dig her fingers into his hair, both cold from the weather and warm from body heat at once. His hat was nowhere to be seen; he must’ve hung it up on the coat rack downstairs.

“You need to shave,” Laurey said bluntly, making a face. He smelled like sweat and hay. Her fingers came away damp from his scalp and she made a point of wiping them off on his sleeves. “An’ yer all  _ wet _ .” Curly reached over her and swiped the washcloth, dipping it in the dish of water again and patting his own face, neck, and head with it. 

“Been workin’,” he responded simply, dropping the washcloth back on the vanity and standing up properly. Laurey rolled her eyes and feigned disgust, using the end of a brush to push the cloth further away. She still had a small and pleasant smile on her lips as she went back to braiding her hair, though. Curly stepped away from the vanity and over to the stove, warming his hands for a moment, then beginning to undress himself. Working in the cold all day necessitated he wear plenty of layers, the outer ones of which were soggy from the snow and the inner ones of which soggy from sweat. He stripped off his shirts first and laid them out by the stove to dry before moving on to drying himself with a rag and undressing further. Laurey couldn’t help but steal a glance through the mirror. (Hey, what could she say? She married a pretty handsome fella.)

“How’re things doin’ out in th’ barn, then?” she asked conversationally. 

“Mm, goin’ fine. Think ol’ Bess is wearin’ down, though,” he said, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Think it’s th’ cold.” 

“She still eatin’ fine?” Laurey asked, finishing up with her hair. Bessie had been the Williams’ milk cow for years, and she had a certain fondness for the beast by now, although it wasn’t unreasonable for the old cow to be ailing at her age.

“Yeah, she’s eatin’.”

“That’s good.” Laurey stood up and moved back to the bed, working to put away the clothes she’d taken off and set aside earlier. Round the other side of the bed Curly was pulling night clothes out of the drawers and beginning to change out of his trousers. Laurey sighed, quietly. 

“D’you ever think ‘bout how we got here, Curly?” she asked after several moments of quiet. He looked up and over at her curiously.

“Hm? Whatd’ya mean?”

“I mean...well, I dunno.” She folded her clothes on the bed carefully and stacked them in a neat pile. “‘bout our weddin’, ‘bout that ol’ box social down at Skidmore’s...d’y’ever think it ought to’ve turned out different?” She asked, frowning slightly in thought. “That  _ we _ ought to’ve…?”

Curly moved round the bed and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and nuzzling the crook of her neck. “Hey now,” he cooed. “Don’ work yerself up, Laurey baby.”

She leaned her head down onto his, held his arms around her waist. “I ain’t, ‘s jist…”

Curly perched his chin on her shoulder and looked at her face from the corners of his eyes. “‘s in the past now...nothin’ t’ do ‘bout any of it.” He frowned slightly with those pouty lips of his, but studied his wife’s face carefully out of love and concern. 

“I know…” She sighed again. “Whut’s done’s done. Jist...wish sometimes it ain’t had t’ happen that-a-way.”

He pressed a kiss to her neck. “Mm, maybe y’oughta try worryin’ less ‘bout the past an’ think more ‘bout th’ future,” he offered, squeezing his arms a little. She couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile.

“What, did’ja have somethin’ in mind?”

He raised his eyebrow and pressed his chin to her shoulder again, humming a singsong hum. His beard was scruffy on her skin even through the nightgown. “Might’a had a couple’a thoughts myself.”

“That’s dangerous,” Laurey teased.

“Yeah, I know,” Curly chuckled along, standing up straight again and placing his hands on Laurey’s shoulders. She craned her head back to look at him. “Fer real, though. I been thinkin’, maybe, well...maybe we should think ‘bout startin’ a family.”

Laurey didn’t seem to have expected that. She frowned slightly, though not upset. “Ain’t we already?”

“Well, yeah,” Curly conceded. “But I mean, more’n jist you ‘n’ me, ‘n’ Aunt Eller.”

“You mean kids,” she said. Less of a question, more of a statement.

Curly breathed. “Yeah. Kids.” He slid his hands down onto her upper arms, holding them gently, feeling her warmth through the fabric of her nightgown. He frowned a little, waiting hopefully for an answer.

Laurey was quiet for a moment, thinking. Surely, she knew the question was going to come at some point, inevitably. She even figured that it might’ve even been  _ her _ doing the asking, potentially, if it took long enough. “You been hearin’ Will Parker talkin’ up how he’s gonna be a daddy, huh?” she asked, only somewhat intending to deflect his question. “Reckon, ‘ith how Ado Annie’s lookin’, it ain’t gonna be too much longer ‘til their first comes along, huh?”

“Mhm,” Curly agreed, though his heart wasn’t in it. Laurey could read him well. He wasn’t just being playful or teasing tonight.

“Well...I dunno,” she said, dropping her shoulders. Curly let go and stepped back; Laurey picked up the clothes pile and turned around. She paused and looked into his eyes for a second. “Do you want ‘em?”

He tilted his head slightly from side to side and breathed, rolling his shoulders, fidgeting. “Think I do,” he agreed after a moment, soft. “Mm. Yeah. I’d love t’ raise a couple a’ little runts of our own.” He grinned at her, sincere and loving.

Laurey looked down at the clothes in her arm and shuffled away. She bent to put the clothes down and away in the laundry basket by the wall. Curly frowned now, suddenly nervous.

“Well...what d’y’ say?” he asked.

Laurey stood up and looked thoughtful and a little melancholic. 

“If- if’n you don’t, I, uh…” Curly stammered, finding her silence hard to bear. He scratched the back of his head, combed his fingers through his hair, let his eyes wander around the room. “I, uh, s’ppose we could, uh, figure somethin’ else out--” It occurred to Laurey just then how much he’d changed even in just the months they’d been married. No longer did he insist on what he wanted, begging her to be sweet on him like when he proposed or growing teasing and calloused if she disagreed with him. She wondered what had brought that upon him, what sparked that change. Perhaps it was living with her, so openly and happily now. Perhaps it had been the wedding. “--’n’ it ain’t gotta be straight ‘way, hell-fer-leather, we’s still got time, but, I jist know, fer me--” he continued as Laurey thought. She came out of her mind and stepped towards him, putting one hand on his chest and one arm on his shoulder. He shut up nervously, looking into her eyes.

“Curly…” she sighed. “Hold yer horses, I ain’t said _no_.” Laurey reminded him, offering a small smile. He smiled back and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist again. “‘m jist...not sure yet. Feel like…’s somethin’ folks’re expectin’ us t’ do. I don’ wanna do things jist t’ prove ‘em right.” She thought again, about how hesitant she was to finally marry him, to go to the box social, how reluctant she was to even allow people the _thought_ that she might’ve been sweet on him. Why was she so _stubborn_?_ Just make up your mind to be happy. Make up your mind to be free, _she thought to herself. _Make up your mind, Laurey dear._

“It ain’t…not fer me, ‘least.” Curly brushed her braids back. “Mean, ‘m sure Aunt Eller’d be mighty pleased t’ have some little gran’-nephews ‘r gran’-nieces t’ look after.” He chuckled. “But...shoot. I don’ care what she wants none. Care ‘bout what  _ you _ want.”

“What  _ I _ want…” She sighed again, looking down. There was a lot to consider. The difficulties and uncertainties of pregnancy, figuring out how to raise a kid right and proper, if she’d be a good mother, if Curly’d be a good father, if it would bring them closer together or drive them further apart. “...I ain’t quite sure yet. But I wanna be happy, want you t’ be happy with me. ‘s jist…”

“Ain’t no way a’ knowin’ how it’ll turn out ‘til it turns out,” Curly finished for her. He knew his wife, he knew what kind of reservations were holding her back, swirling in her mind. Laurey looked up at his face again and smiled. 

“Yeah. ‘s right.” She brushed his neck with her thumb.  _ Ask your heart. Whatever it tells you will be true. _ “But...I wanna be happy with you. If’n you think we’ll be happy…” 

“We will. Promise.”

“...okay. We can try.” 

Curly held his breath for a moment, then beamed, squeezing her tight around the waist and lifting her up to spin her around in excitement. He whooped, and she laughed at his joy. He twirled her around then set her back down; she put a hand on his face and he leaned in, kissing her deeply. He pulled her in and held her close, enjoying her warmth, her softness, her smell and taste like roses and nutmeg. Laurey pulled back after a moment or two, her arms draped over his shoulders. 

“Okay, okay, keep yer voice down, yer gon’ wake up th’ whole territory.”

“Let ‘em hear!” he threw his head back and called up to the ceiling. “Miss Laurey  _ Mclain _ is  _ my girl _ an’ she’s gonna make me a  _ father _ !” 

“ _ Hush up _ , you! I bet Aunt Eller’s tryin’ t’ sleep,” she patted his shoulder. He inhaled and kissed her again. When he was done she pressed her forehead to his chest. “C’mon, you. ‘s time fer bed. Put yer damn shirt on ‘lready.”

Curly held her tight in their hug one last time, exhaling happily. “You make me th’ happiest man in th’ territory,” he said before letting go and going round the other side of the beg again, finally picking up his nightshirt and buttoning it on. “Naw. The  _ world. _ ” Laurey lifted back the quilt and crawled into bed, shivering at the cold. Her husband crawled in beside her, once again wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. She smiled and leaned into him. The bed was already ten times more comfortable with him in it.

“Mm...how’d I get so lucky t’ get you fer a husband?” she asked sleepily.

“I wore y’ down with my persistent charm an’ good looks, ‘member?” he said, smirking, cheeky. 

“‘m sure that ain’t it. Must’ve taken pity on ya by th’ time you fine’ly worked up th’ nerve t’ ask me.”

“‘ey, whatever it was, I still gotchu fer my own at last.” He kissed her again. She rested her head on his shoulder. “I love y’, Laurey.”

Laurey blew out the candle on the nightstand and pulled back the quilt. She curled up against him, closing her eyes. “I love y’ too, Curly.”


End file.
